The Illumination
by 55below
Summary: Buck Cannon encounters two different men who impact his life and his beliefs. One wishes to teach him. One wants to kill him.
1. Chapter 1

Buck dared not push Rebel any harder. It was entirely too hot and the two of them had covered far too much ground that day to try to outrun anyone. He was tired, he was hungry and in no mood to be messed with. Buck's concerns however, didn't matter one bit to the three men chasing him.

There was a large outcropping of rocks about a quarter mile to Buck's left and he steered Rebel directly toward them. He'd have a refuge of sorts in those boulders. If he could get in a few good shots from the safety of this makeshift fortress, Buck figured he had a fighting chance of getting out alive.

Reaching the face of the outcropping, the rider skirted it's flank until he saw an opening in the rocks. Weaving through the smaller boulders he made it in about a hundred yards before the sheer walls halted his progress. Leaping from the horse's back, Buck snatched his carbine from the scabbard on the saddle and ran up into a maze of large rocks until he reached a good vantage point. The sweat began pouring down his brow as he regained his breath.

The three pursuers slowed their horses as they looked into the gap which had swallowed their prey. The men were just a tad out of reach for the stubby carbine to be a sure bet, Buck thought. He wished he had grabbed his long rifle before he left but there had been no reason to pack the extra weight. _Who were these guys?_ he wondered. More to the point, _what_ were these guys? They were clearly not Montoya hands. The border was at least a mile to the south. They didn't wear mongrel bandito clothes and they rode without saddles. The man on the left was clearly an Indian but his were not the cotton garments of the Apache. The man in the middle wore a sombrero which had a short brim, the likes of which Buck had rarely seen. The man on the right was the most distinctive of the three. His long hair was red, a dark red, the color of dried blood. His complexion was the same as the first man's, but a red-headed Indian was unique to Buck.

As the three men stood in front of their horses Buck squeezed off a shot. As he suspected would happen, the bullet landed short of the intended target. However, the splash of sand sent the men running for the shelter of the rocks at the foot of Buck's fortress. They were now within reach of the carbine but the rocks which provided Buck a safe haven benefitted the agressors as well. They moved from rock to rock, closing the distance, but Buck was unable to get a bead on any of them. Their movements seemed coordinated, efficient, almost graceful.

Buck knew he needed to focus on one man at a time. He pointed his sights at the boulder where he had last seen the red-haired one and held tight. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the other two move once ,then twice , then a third time. He shifted his barrel to the second man only to see the redhead leap forward two times. He swung and pulled the trigger. As the bullet slammed into the rock which the man had just ducked behind, the Indian sprinted across the opening to Buck's left. He ran like a deer. Buck's attempt to hit him in stride was too little, too late. The young man somersaulted out of sight behind the gates of the opening. Buck knew he was now in trouble. The Indian would be able to get above Buck's stand with little effort. Once he did, Buck knew, there would be no way out. If the other two were patient it would be a matter of minutes before they had him dead to rights. Buck sat back and considered his options when a realization crossed his thoughts. _Not once had any of the men fired at him!_

He knew Sombrero and Red were within a hundred yards. Buck gathered himself and asked loudly, "Whaddya want?"

There was a brief pause.

"Horse"

"I ain't givin' you my horse."

"Then I will take him."

The tone of the response caught Buck off guard. There was no menace in the voice, no anger. It was rather calm, matter-of-fact. He believed the man. They could've blasted him with powder and lead had they chosen to, but they hadn't. There was a chance the men didn't have any firearms but Buck discounted the idea. To act on that assumption could be suicide. He gazed over at Rebel. The old cowboy valued the animal greatly. It had gotten him out of as many scrapes as Buck had gotten him into. No. Rebel wasn't going anywhere. The thought of walking all the way back to the Chaparral and having to explain to everyone that Rebel was stolen out from under him was unthinkable.

He looked at the steep rock face to his left. If he could gain a little more elevation perhaps he might see the Indian before the Indian saw him. The devil he couldn't see bothered him more than the two he could. Buck dashed upward from rock to rock until he had gained about thirty feet . He crouched behind a rock and didn't move until he had regained his breath. Ever so slowly he peeked over the rim of the rock to try and relocate the two men below. What he saw was Rebel, his head pulled down , slowly half-stepping toward the entrance of the canyon. The feet and legs of the red-haired man were visible behind Rebel's forelegs. The man's torso was hidden behind the horse.

Buck shouldered the stubby barrelled rifle waiting for a clean shot at the man's legs. Unfortunately for Buck the redhair knew exactly what he was doing and he was doing it very well. He made sure the horse could only take half-steps, thus keeping own legs shielded. If the two could make it another hundred feet or so, Rebel would be gone for good. The old cowboy was watching his horse being stolen six inches at a time. The carbine was all but useless. It was never particularly accurate to begin with. A paper plate at fifty yards was about the most one could ask. In this situation it was far more likely he'd hit Rebel than the man behind him. Buck sat back and rested, grasping for an answer.

Buck heard a loud hiss. As he looked up, a smoky trail shot across the sky directly in front of him It arced over the sheer face to his left. Just as it disappeared from his sight there was a loud explosion and a cry from the rocks above. Buck watched as the Indian he had seen a few minutes earlier appeared in the blue sky overhead. He seemed to hang in mid-air for a second before dropping and landing on the very rock which had initially shielded Buck He was dead on impact.

As Buck turned to his right to locate the source of the missile, a small object about the size of a quail's egg came looping over the rocks. It had a red , hissing tail and once it hit the ground at Rebel's feet, it exploded. The horse reared violently and jerked the reins from the redhead. As the horse bolted toward Buck, the man jumped behind the nearest rock.

Another quail egg flew over the rocks, then another and another Each explosion pushed the redhead and the sombrero man further away from the cowboy. Buck held his fire. They hadn't shot at him, he wasn't going to shoot at them. He could hear the horses whinny down below. Rising from behind his rocky shield Buck watched the two men chase after their mounts while little rockets like he had first seen screamed and exploded all around them. At length, the men caught up to their horses and rode off without looking back.

Once the air had calmed, Buck shouted out, " I'd sure like to shake your hand, friend. " There was no immediate response.

Buck turned his attention to the body which lay before him as he picked his way down the rocks to the floor of the brief canyon. He rolled the young brave on his back and looked at the face. He wasn't Apache. Not full-blooded anyway. Not Pima, not Paiute. He didn't resemble any of the Native Tribes Buck recalled from back East. The cowboy rubbed the material of the dead man's clothing between his fingers. It was almost paper thin yet noticeably strong. Antelope. The stitching was impeccable and the fit on the man's body was like a second skin. It was an impressive garment from the hands of a very skilled person. Navajo quality, yet decidedly not of the Navajo style.

There was no holster, gun nor ammunition. Reaching across the Indian's body Buck withdrew the fallen man's knife. It was unlike any other he had ever held. It balanced perfectly in his hand and the edge glistened like mercury. The handle appeared to be mesquite but was somewhat triangular in shape unlike the hard- edged type he carried nor the rounded handles favored by the Apache. The butt was a band of silver about a half- inch thick and it held a shiny jet- black stone which Buck didn't recognize. The blade was much shorter than was common and thinner as well. The steel curved ever so slightly upward and there was a guthook on the reverse of the tip.

As Buck respectfully placed the knife back in its sheath, he sensed he was being watched. Resisting the overwhelming urge to pull his pistol he slowly turned to see a man squatting on a rock twenty feet above him. Buck's face went blank as he slumped onto his butt.

The man on the rock slowly rose until he reached his full five foot, five inch height. On his feet were sandals. Baggy cotton pants and a matching cloth blouse constituted his wardrobe. On his head sat a conical hat of woven fibers. The eyes, slanted and dark, seemed to be laughing. The round face showed the wrinkles of early middle age and the placid, relaxed demeanor was hard to miss. He held out his right hand showing three fingers. He held out his left hand and showed one. Then the man crossed his hands back and forth, one above the other. He smiled.

Buck laughed and rolled over onto his knees to stand up . When he turned around, the Chinese man was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Buck and Rebel walked alongside the wagon at a steady pace, neither the horseman nor the man aboard the cart in any particular hurry. The conversation the two men had shared over the last four hours was merely an extension of the one started the previous night. Subtracting six hours of much needed shut-eye the dialogue was close to ten hours long. Rather uncommon behavior for the normally taciturn old cowboy but the entirety of the previous twelve hours was equally so.

" I jist don't get it, Mr Kim" Buck drawled. "You got a wagon full of gunpowder and fuses and explodin' quail eggs but you don't carry no gun? Makes no sense to me. No sense a-tall."

" Ah, Buckannon, have I not come to your country from China without a gun? Have I not traveled from San Francisco to this point without a gun?"

" Well, there weren't no 'Paches on that boat. Weren't no banditos neither."

Kim laughed. "That is quite true Buckannon. But men are men. The cultures are different, the customs are different, but as men we are more alike than not."

"It'll only take one run-in with some of these men for you to change yer tune , I'm afraid. And why New Awlins, anyway? Why would you wanna go there?"

Kim sat pensively for a few minutes. "The man on the boat, the man who taught me to read and write English spoke of it often. He said it was a place of many colors of men, of many religions and customs. A place of art and music and joy. That is where I wish to be."

" Well, I been there before. After the war. And yeah, its a pretty colorful place alright. But there's some bad hombres there, too. Lotsa folks get killed in New Awlins. Jist don't see why you'd want to go there."

' There are men of different races here, are there not, Buckannon? Are there not different cultures and customs? Are there not men here who would kill you? Yet you choose to stay. Why is that?"

"Cuz we got the Chaparral" Buck answered . "Us bein' here is a good thing. I think we can make this a better place than when we found it. I truly do."

Kim smiled wryly and said nothing, choosing instead to let his words marinate in Buck's skull for a while.

"OK. I see what you mean. And yeah, a fella who can make his own fireworks oughta do pretty well in New Awlins. But if its all the same to you, as long as I'm here I'm still gunna pack this pistol."

The two men laughed quietly and rode a bit in silence. It was Kim's nature to answer questions with questions Buck had noted, and it didn't bother him. Whenever John did that same thing Buck always felt his intelligence was being questioned. With Mano it was his judgement. With Blue it was his... his.. _sanity(?)_. Something. Victoria seemed to be the only one at the Chaparral who didn't routinely question him. She seemed to accept Buck as he was from the get-go. The thought made him smile but also reminded him of the need to get back to the ranch. He didn't really want to go back right away. He was enjoying the company of this strange little man and their brief time together was an unexpected and highly unlikely convergence. It was so far from the ordinary that Buck didn't want to let go too soon.

The day before, when Buck thought the man had simply vanished into thin air, turned out to be most rewarding he'd had in quite some time. The little Chinese man had fetched his wagon and led it into the small rocky alcove where Buck and the dead Indian were. The rig was pulled by a pretty mule ( two words Buck had never before used in sequence) and was unreined. The Chinaman merely used little cackles and low whistles to guide the animal . Once the cart was stopped the man effortlessly jumped from his seat and landed in front of Buck. For the first time Huang Yong Kim met Buck Cannon.

Kim invited Buck to stay the night in the alcove with him. He had food and water in his wagon and it was getting a bit late to head out for the Chaparral. Buck accepted the invitation. He also honored Kim's request that he go see the horse that the dead Indian had been riding.

When Buck found the animal outside the rocks he understood the request. The animal was gaunt. From it's haunch down, the insides of the animal's rear legs were caked with dried feces. There was puddle of the fresh stuff on the ground and the stench made Buck want to puke. When he approached the animal, it showed no sign that it knew Buck was there. He removed the blanket from the horse and placed the muzzle of his pistol behind the animal's ear. By the time Buck returned to the camp Kim had already begun scooping out a grave in the sand.

It went against Buck's very nature to think of lifting anything heavier than a noose when it came to horse thieves, but there was something different about this one. He considered that Mr. Kim was hell bent on burying the man and the idea of spending a night keeping company with a rotting corpse held little appeal. Buck began to fetch medium sized rocks while Kim diligently scooped out a shallow trough with his hands. Once Kim was satisfied with his efforts he placed the horse blanket in the grave and, with Buck's assistance, lifted the lifeless form into the depression. After folding the blanket over the man's face and torso Kim began placing the gathered stones onto the corpse. Had it been his choice, Buck would've been fine just pitching them randomly until the body was covered. Kim though, took the time to place the rocks with great care. He was quiet, contemplative and respectful in his every move.

Buck used the time to go over and pull the saddle off Rebel. He filled his hat with water from Kim's wagon and the animal all but inhaled it. Buck needed to refill his hat several more times. He gave his horse a quick brush down and looked over at the mule as he did so. The black mane of the chestnut colored animal was tightly braided, not a hair out of place. The hide of the animal was almost shiny, the result of frequent and caring brushdowns. Buck felt a pang of guilt when he looked at his mount. Ol' Reb was pretty rough by comparison.

Buck offered to head up into the rocks and grab some standing dead mesquite for the night's fire while Kim finished the grave. When Buck came back down through the rocks with an armful of wood he gazed at Kim's efforts. The grave was perfectly symmetrical, the edges of each rock aligning tightly with the adjoining one. It rose up from the ground at a consistent angle for a foot or so and rested flat and true above the dead man's body. There was a design of sorts in the way the flat rocks were placed. From his vantage point it looked like a bird of some sort. Horse thief or not, Buck was glad to see the effort and respect Kim had shown the Indian. Buck would have no problem if his final resting spot looked like this one.

As night began to take control of the sky Buck got a hot, small fire going and Mr Kim began to boil water. Some was used to make tea, the rest was used to make rice. The two men talked while Kim prepared their dinner. After grabbing a deep frying pan he referred to as a "walk", Kim cut up chunks of meat and onions and peppers. He splashed some oil in the odd skillet and when it began to smoke he added the ingredients. The meat sizzled on impact and Kim started flipping the mix in the air to keep it from burning. Grabbing two bowls from the wagon he filled their bottoms with the hot rice then dumped the contents of the skillet on top. The bowl he handed the cowboy held twice as much as his own but neither man commented. Buck politely waited for a spoon but when he noticed Kim using chopsticks he realized that one wouldn't be coming. It was no problem. He pulled his knife out and began scooping the food with it as he had done many times before. . He instantly recognized the meat. Rattlesnake. Truth be told, Buck preferred it to rabbit. Kinda liked the chewy quality the serpent's meat produced.

The two men talked late into the night. There are things which can be spoken between strangers which are never broached with friends and family. Often these things can be deeply personal. For Buck it was usually when he had way too much to drink or perhaps when being fooled by the false intimacy of a one night stand. With Kim it was the nature of what they talked about. It wasn't the bunkhouse bravado of wine, women and conquest. It wasn't the shop talk around the dinner table about ranching, family fueds and money. Rather it centered on the world they shared, as how very different yet similar all peoples were. They talked of the industry of the bee, the selflessness of a flock of geese, the strength of a solitary bear. For as much as Buck had seen in his life he still found amazement in so many different things. In Kim he had found a kindred spirit, a person who could not be more different on the surface, yet was similar inside.

They agreed that the young man who laid a few paces away was only interested in Buck's horse, not his life. The dead animal outside the rocks was clear evidence of that. It bothered Buck that the young man had to die for want of a horse. If they'd have only asked him for one he would've helped. Horse thieving was a black and white issue to a man like Buck, but in talking with Kim he began to see shades of grey. In his gut, Buck knew that asking for help was probably not the way of this man. To attempt to take a horse from an armed man without firing a single shot in doing so held a certain gravitas with him. There was a perverse respect and Buck appreciated Kim's efforts with the grave even more than before. The Indian was certainly no coward. He just picked the wrong place and time with the wrong men.

There was a quality to the Chinaman, as well, Buck realized, as he laid his head down to sleep. Throughout the entire evening Kim seemed able to steer every conversation to a conclusion Buck had never before considered. Buck thought of the mule, of how it also followed Kim's lead. He fell asleep before he had time to frown.

The first glow of morning light was visible when Buck awoke. In the semi-darkness he could see Kim bent over a small flame boiling up a pot of tea. He'd prefer coffee but surely wasn't about to refuse the generosity of Kim's efforts. The small man greeted Buck as he rose and stretched and by the time Buck had pulled on his boots the tea was ready.

He invited the Chinaman to the Chaparral, to rest up for a few days as a way of thanking him for the outcome of the previous day. When Kim politely refused Buck offered to ride along for a few hours just to make sure that things went well. He considerd the real possibility that they could encounter the two men who had gotten away. He also wanted to talk with Kim a bit longer. Kim welcomed the offer.

While Buck was saddling up Rebel he watched as Kim harnessed his mule. The animal did exactly what Kim wanted and the entire affair took only a few minutes. That wasn't like any mule Buck had ever known. He really didn/t care for them much. Too stubborn. Too much like himself, he realized. Too much like his brother for that matter. He'd never known a mule to be trained , like a horse or a dog. All he ever knew was a firm grip on the reins and a lot of cussin' and fightin' to get the blockheaded things to cooperate. When he asked the little man how he got his mule to be so agreeable Kim merely smiled.

"You must let the animal believe it is his choice to make."

Buck knew better than to ask, "How?" He simply steered Rebel out of the small sanctuary and the two travelers were on their way a full hour before sunlight.

* * *

Buck passed several possible trails back to ranch while talking with Kim but he knew the next trail north would be his final chance. Mr. Kim would be on his own at that point.

When they reached the junction Buck again offered to put his friend up for a few days. Once more, Kim politely refused.

" You 'member how I told you to veer left after you cross that pass?" Buck asked.

"Oh yes Buckannon. But you need not worry. My steed will know the correct path to follow."

The word "steed" caught Buck's funny bone and he laughed out loud. " _Steed!?"_ Mr Kim. no offense but that there's a _mule."_ Buck was still laughing when he noticed the "steed" turn his head and look at him. Buck looked away but when he looked back the animal was still staring at him. Buck knew stinkeye when he saw it. Rebel had given it to him once or twice himself.

"OK" Buck blurted out at the animal. "I 'pologize. You'se a steed."

The animal turned its head back to the trail.

"Well, Mr. Kim. I guess this is where we part ways. I won't be forgettin' you for a while, that's for sure." Buck held out his hand.

Kim rose from his seat and rather than take Buck's hand, slowly and respectfully bowed. Buck thought to reply in kind and began to tip his hat before reconsidering. As best he could atop the horse, Buck bowed.

" Good luck to you, Mr. Kim"

"Good luck to you, Buckannon."

* * *

For fifteen minutes Buck rode along without a care in the world. The desert is a magical place in the early hours of the day before the sun beats everthing into submission. Buck knew to enjoy this time.

Some movement on a ridge about a half of a mile from Buck caused the cowboy to slow down. He steered Rebel into a thick patch of chaparral and dismounted, reducing his profile. Over the ridge rode a single Apache . Soon another followed him, then another. Within two minutes Buck could see a dozen of them. They seemed to be in no hurry but when Buck recognized the third man in the group his heart began to beat faster. Soldado.

Buck didn't like Soldado. Not one bit. While the Cannons had a tenuous understanding with most of the Apaches Soldado was a notable exception. He was flighty and impulsive. Unpredictable. Even Cochise didn't trust Soldado all that much. Wherever he went trouble followed.

Sizing up the situation Buck realized that should the Indians continue on their current path they would encounter Mr. Kim in short order. As soon as they were out of sight he mounted up and galloped back the direction he had just come.

Buck knew no matter how fast he moved there was no way he could get to Kim before the Apaches. Even if he was to get there first it probably wouldn't matter. Soldado would want the contents of Kim's wagon and would gladly kill to get it.

Once Buck reached the backside of the promontory behind which Kim's wagon had last been, he turned the horse and rode quickly to the top. Grabbing the carbine, he bent over and scrambled to the edge. What he saw four hundred yards below was the worst possible scenario, the one he feared was inevitable. Kim was surrounded by the Apaches, Soldado standing directly in front of the wagon. Buck felt sick to his stomach. He could do nothing to save his new friend. Even if he could hit one of the Indians with the little carbine the result would be Kim's immediate death and a race for his life back to the Chaparral, a race he'd probably lose. All Buck could do was watch.


	3. Chapter 3

Soldado moved his horse forward until the tip of his spear touched the bottom of Kim's chin. Guiding the man's head with the sharp tip, he turned it to the right and then to the left. He had never seen such a man. None of the braves had. His eyes were slanted, his clothing unusual and the color of his skin was neither white nor red nor black. It was almost yellow. His odd little hat looked like an upside down wasp nest. The man's demeanor was also bothersome to Soldado. He showed no fear, seeming to accept the Indian's advances without question.

Soldado flicked the hat from Kim's head and raised the spear until the man rose from his seat. He then forced him off the wagon, leading him to a clear spot twenty feet away. With that, the Indian backed up until he was as far from Kim as Kim was from the wagon. He gestured to one of his men. The subordinate dropped from his horse and cautiously approached the Oriental, knife drawn. The brave circled the captive, examining him closely. He pointed to the Kim's sandals with the tip of his knife and laughed. The others laughed too. Even the normally stoic Soldado laughed. Gesturing for his man to back away, Soldado pulled a knife from his belt and with an underhand motion, tossed the weapon to the foriegn man. Kim deftly caught it in mid-air, by the handle.

The leader barked an order and the Indian on the ground assumed a fighting stance, knees bent, knife poised. The little man looked at him pensively and then bent over and buried Soldado's knife to the hilt in the sand between his feet. Quietly he backed out of his sandals.

The Indian charged , his knife leading the way. Kim reacted quickly, grabbing the assailant's arm with both hands and falling to his back. He shot his leg out, and using the Indian's momentum, flung him overhead. The Indian landed hard but was on his feet in a flash. He charged again but the small man jumped in the air and drove the side of his foot into the brave's throat. He fell to the ground gagging, unable to breathe.

Soldado ordered two more men to complete the task the first had just failed to accomplish. The little man remained with his back to the Indians until the first one was within arm's length. He leaped and spun violently, his left elbow locked in at shoulder level. The full force of his entire body was concentrated in that same elbow and it crashed into the Indian's right eyesocket. The attacker screamed in pain and fell to the ground as his freshly broken nose shot streams of blood down his chest. With a cat -quick reflex Kim drove his foot into the solar plexus of the third brave. He hunched over as the small man spun and kicked his heel into the slumping man's temple. The Apache was out cold before his face hit the ground.

Soldado ordered two more men down. Not wanting to make the same mistake the first three had made they proceeded with great caution. They circled Kim who stood perfectly still, seeming to focus on some unseen object several feet in front of himself. He didn't look at either Apache. The two maintained eye contact as they closed in on the motionless man. With a simple nod the two attacked at once. Instantly the small man rolled to his right, grabbed one Indian's shirt and flipped him into the path of the second brave. The second one lunged as he fell, his knife barely missing the Chinaman. As he started to stand, the knee of the small man violently slammed into the bottom of the Indian's nose. He fell with cry. Another broken nose, another double barrelled blast of blood. Indian number five was on his feet by then and tried to stab Kim before he regained his footing. The man reacted instantly . Avoiding the knife, he grabbed the Indian's wrist with both hands and spun the larger man around. He twisted the arm as the Indian fell and at the last second, jammed his heel into the brave's armpit, jerking and twisting the arm at the same time. There was a loud "pop" and the Apache let out a frightening scream. The high-pitched wail made the hair on Soldado's neck stand up.

The screaming Apache looked at his shoulder which projected four inches further than it should. He held the arm down making it look more like the trunk of an elephant than a human appendage. The man could do nothing more than walk in a circle, crying in pain.

As Kim turned to face the remaining Indians he noticed one brave draw his bow. Soldado screamed "No!" but it was a split second too late. The arrow struck the little man in the chest as he grabbed for it. The force of the impact spun Kim around yet he remained standing, his back to the group. Slowly he turned to the men on horseback. His fist held the head of the arrow next to his chest. He pulled the arrow away from his body. There was no blood on the sharp tip , just a small tear in the man's blouse. He had caught the arrow in mid-flight. The Apaches gasped and Soldado became nervous. And silent.

Kim stared at the Indian leader for a moment before walking calmly to his wagon. He reached under the seat and pulled out what appeared to Soldado to be a small twig about two inches long with a small tail. The twig was attached to a thin reed as long as his forearm. Kim held up the arrow and deftly weaved the reed through the sinew which held the arrowhead to the shaft. When the twig section was flush with the spearpoint, he raised it skyward. Reaching into a pouch on his blouse, the Chinaman produced a small stick which he ignited with his thumbnail. He held the flame to the tail of the stick which sputtered and hissed . Just before the red embers reached the stick, Kim tossed it upward. With a loud whoosh the arrow shot further into the air than any Apache had ever seen an arrow fly. Up it went and as soon as it reached its peak, it exploded. The blast jolted the horses and the Apaches tried to rein them in as hundreds of splinters fell from the sky.

Soldado was spooked. He looked at the little man and knew in his heart that the balance of power rested with the one, not with the twelve. He was frozen, not knowing what to do. He could show no fear in front of his men, but for the first time since he was a boy, Soldado had no idea what course of action to take.

The little man walked back to his sandals and slid into them. Reaching down he removed Soldado's knife from the sand. Holding it by the blade he walked straight to the leader's horse and handed him the knife, handle first. Soldado looked into Kim's eyes. There was a note of quiet defiance in them. The two looked at each other long enough to make the braves nervous. One did not stare down Soldado although unbekownst to them Soldado was about to look away. Before he could, the Chinaman turned and walked back to his original spot. That Soldado would allow someone, _anyone_ , to turn their back on him was a sight they had rarely witnessed. The message was clear. Several braves dismounted and helped their bleeding, semiconcious friends back to their horses. As they did , Kim approached the man with the separated shoulder who was still writhing in pain.

When the Apache saw who was approaching the look on his face turned from one of pain to one of fear. Kim gestured for him to remain still and the Indian obeyed. The shorter man reached out and calmly turned the Indian's face away. He grabbed the wrist of the Apache with his right hand as he gently placed his left palm over the grotesque bulb at the shoulder. In one quick motion Kim pulled with one hand while the palm of the other pushed the ball back into the socket. The Indian let out a small cry but was instantly able to raise his arm again. Kim smiled at him and ,without thinking, the Apache smiled back. He mounted his horse as the Chinaman returned to his spot in the center of the arena.

Kim stood perfectly still and looked at Soldado. He placed the palms of his hands together in front of his chest, closed his eyes and bowed to the Apache. His eyes remained closed as Soldado turned and slowly trotted away. The remaining Apaches randomly followed their confused leader, turning often to look back at the remarkable little man.

Four hundred yards above the fray the man in black laid on his side, propped up on his elbow. He smiled a curious smile, part pride, part disbelief. He rose and mounted his horse. When Buck Cannon reached the bottom of the hill he didn't turn toward the Chaparral. Instead, he prodded Rebel to go to the left.


	4. Chapter 4

Pedro could clearly tell the identity of one of the men approaching the ranch. With the possible exception of Sam Butler, no one sat a horse more distinctly than Buck Cannon. The man seated aboard the wagon which accompanied the rider was a completely different story. He appeared to be _Chinese(?)_ Pedro rubbed his eyes and the second glance confirmed the first. As duty required, he raised the muzzle of his rifle and fired. The few men scattered about the yard paused and looked out to the new arrivals.

Buck and Kim were already to the gate before John made it out the front door, Victoria, a few steps behind. As Buck passed Pedro atop the platform of the water tower he yelled up to the man, "Hey Pedro, like you to meet my new friend, Mr. Kim . " Buck smiled broadly.

Pedro nodded and as he did, the unusual little man stood up in the moving cart and bowed. Pedro , not wanting to seem rude , returned the bow, losing his balance as he teetered forward. He fell to the floor, narrowly avoiding the embarrassment of dropping to the ground. He could hear Sam's distinctive guffaw and Blue's boyful laugh from the corral. Ignoring them, he stood , hitched his drawers, and stared off into the open range, trying to look busy.

John couldn't help but notice the wide smile on Buck's face. It reminded him of the time his little brother won a third place ribbon for his calf at the county fair. He must be pretty proud of his new friend.

Buck drew Rebel right up to the porch. Kim spoke to the mule in his unique way and the animal turned the wagon in a tight circle before backing up alongside the younger Cannon. In one smooth movement he jumped down and faced his hosts.

"John, Victoria, this here is Mr. Huang Yong Kim. Mr. Kim, these are the folks I been tellin' you about , my brother, John, and his wife, Victoria."

As if on cue, both Victoria and John bowed respectfully.

"Welcome to the Chaparral" said one.

"Thank you for honoring us with your presence" said the other.

Mr. Kim politely bowed in return, saying nothing.

" Well, big brother have I got a story for you." Buck excitedly blurted. " Mr. Kim here done kept Ol'Reb from gettin' stole out from under me and then he run off Soldado too..."

" _Soldado_?" John roared, the look of disgust on his face matching the intensity of his voice. " _Tried to steal your horse_? Every single time I think we've got things ironed out with that fool..."

'No, no" Buck interrupted, placing his palms against John's chest." Wasn't Soldado what tried to steal my horse. It was three other guys."

"Who? Who were they?"

" I don't honestly know, John. Never seen any of 'em before. One of 'em got killed. Indian kid, but he wasn't like any other Indian I can remember. Looked a little A-pach but different. Different clothes, too. And he didn't have a gun."

"Whoa" Sam said. "Somebody tried to steal Buck Cannon's horse out from under him and he didn't have a gun? I'd say they were three stooges."

" Naw, Sam," Buck slowly answered ." I chewed on that one all night long. I don't know what they was but they wasn't stupid. They knew exactly what they was doin', and I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but they almost stole Rebel in front of my very eyes. They mighta done it,too, if it weren't for Mr. Kim ."

'Did you shoot the Indian, ?" Blue asked.

Buck answered. " Nah, he don't carry a gun neither, Blue. Nobody got shot. He fell off a cliff but..well... I guess you could say Mr. Kim kinda give him a little push."

The fact that Buck didn't laugh at that comment placed yet another twist in this already unusual story. The men all looked at Kim and back at Buck. Everyone paused.

Victoria broke the silence. " Forgive my poor manners, Mr. Kim. Would you like a cold drink? I am afraid we are out of lemons for lemonade but I'm sure I can find something in the pantry."

"Tea, perhaps?" asked Kim.

" Oh, I am so sorry. I am the only one who drinks tea and I'm afraid I am out of that as well. No one has gone to town this month and we are short on many things. Forgive me."

Kim walked to his wagon and pulled out a cloth bag. Victoria gracefully accepted the offering and untied the bag, taking a brief sniff of its contents. " Oh, my," she exhaled, placing her right palm on her chest. Taking yet another, deeper whiff, she closed her eyes and repeated her words. " Oh, my. Come out of the sun, please. I'll brew the tea. Will you be staying with us long, ?"

Before the small man could answer, Buck cleared his throat and spoke." Well, that there is kind of an interestin' question, Victoria. See, Mr. Kim was on his way to New Awlins and the Chaparral was kinda out of his way and ..well...I knew nobody would believe what we been through for the last day or so unless Mr. Kim hisself was here and he makes firecrackers and I got to thinking if we all could pitch in a little money and maybe if you could dip into yer rainy day fund ,John, we could have a real nice fireworks show and everyone could hear this story...so I kinda... well, I kinda I hired him and kinda promised to pay him..."

John shot Buck a hard glance. He was entirely too familiar with Buck's ability to spend his big brother's money.

" Oh, John" Victoria squealed. " I love fireworks! It would be grand! We can have our own private fiesta! John, the men haven't been to town for weeks . All they do is work. A break would so nice, wouldn't it, John?"She pressed herself against his tall frame and gazed at him with the look he knew to avoid.

There was merit in Victoria's argument, John had to admit. The men had been going at it for a while now and not a one had complained. Not once. Heck, he liked fireworks himself. It didn't escape John's mind that Mr. Kim had been there for one of his own and had acted selflessly. Yeah, it was a pretty easy decision to make.

" I would be happy to contract your services, Mr. Kim. Just let me know what you need and it will be there for you. "

The entire group let out a yell of approval, the loudest voice coming from the water tower. Victoria gave her husband a quick hug and headed to the outdoor kitchen with the prized bag of tea.

"Let's get these animals taken care of " John ordered "and if any of you are as interested in this story as I am you can come back here in five minutes. We'll take a break. You've all earned it."

Buck made it a point to have Blue lead Mr. Kim's animal to the trough. Once Blue was in front of the mule, Buck hollered out " Take good care of that steed, Blue Boy."

Blue gave his uncle a quizzical look and laughed, saying, " Steed? Uncle Buck this ain't nothing but a mule" as he reached for the halter.

Instantly the animal turned its head away from Blue. Going to the side the animal's head had turned, Blue tried again. The animal turned its head back the other way. When Buck went back over to the other side the "steed" turned again. Blue looked over to Buck who, along with Sam, was finding the entire affair to be extremely funny. Blue held out his arms at his side, not too sure how far to push things with another man's animal. Mr. Kim whistled softly and the mule slowly walked over to the trough by itself. Kim put his hand on Blue's shoulder and laughed sweetly when Blue looked at him. The little man's face put Blue completely at ease and the two men walked over to the wagon and freed the animal from its burden.

The ranch hands grabbed stools and buckets and headed for the sanctuary of the porch's shade. It would be a few minutes before the tea was ready but Buck began telling the story of the horse thieves who didn't shoot at him. None of the hands could say for sure where the dead Indian came from. Sam seemed to know a bit about the red-headed one but chose to keep his thoughts to himself. By the time tea was served, Buck had begun the story of Kim and Soldado. He was fully in his element by now and had the attention of every man on the porch. Reno leaned over the top of the house and listened intently.

The further Buck got into the story, the more animated he became. He rolled on the porch to the right, then rolled to the left. He kicked an imaginary Apache with his left foot , then kicked another with his right. He hunched over, then stood and removed an invisible arrow from his chest. The men kept glancing at Kim trying to balance the words Buck spoke with the modest little man who seemed to be enjoying the melodrama as much as anyone.

No one in the world had heard more ' Buckisms" than big John Cannon but when told of how Soldado wandered off , with his tail between his legs , the entire story took on a ring of truth. John believed every word of the story because it bore a belief that he had long harbored, that Soldado was a coward, a bully who manipulated lesser men to do his bidding. Most of Soldado's men were rejects from other Apache bands, easy to control. John quietly knew that Cochise was aware of this too, even though the words were never spoken between the two men.

Once Buck's story concluded, John did a most unusual thing. He allowed the men to remain on the porch rather than telling them to go back to work. Victoria noticed it immediately and hurried to get more cold tea into the men's glasses lest John change his mind. She then sat on John's knee, something no one had ever seen before and something which bothered no one. Even Big John seemed not to mind. He gave her a funny little look but then sat back and listened as those gathered peppered Mr. Kim with questions. The most obvious , of course, was " Where did you learn to fight like that?"

It wasn't fighting, he told them. It was a discipline, a discipline learned as a boy. Although born into wealth, Kim was sent to a cloistered school which preached piety, humility and self-sacrifice. It was here that young Kim was taught to integrate the abilities of the mind, the spirit and the body, to become as one with the elements surrounding him. What Buck had witnessed, he told them , was merely a piece of what he was taught, as much a mental and spiritual effort as it was physical one.

Later in his life, after his time at the school, a revolution took the father's wealth and , shorly thereafter, Kim's family. Kim was at the university by then, studying to be a healer, and fled China before he too, was killed. On his way to America, he was befriended by a young man from "Harvard, America". Over countless games of chess, the Harvard man taught Kim to speak English.

Of the men gathered, no one asked more questions of than Blue. His mind was open, and accepting. He had never been encumbered by the rigid dogmas which seemed to define his father and his uncle. He never would be. Blue soaked up Kim's words like a sponge and was about to ask yet another question when Pedro's rifle spoke. "Mano and Joe" he yelled.

The two men rode in at a steady pace. Something was obviously wrong with Joe. He sat in the saddle as rigid as a piece of oak. Mano 's face was pulled tight, not even a hint of a smile visible.

" Joe, you alright?" asked John. " What happened?"

" Got thrown" Joe grimaced. " My fault. Horse tried to tell me not to go down the hill but I wouldn't listen." Joe patted the neck of his gelding. " It was unstable. The whole hillside gave out 'bout halfway down and we flipped. He landed right on me. I'm darn glad I didn't hurt him. I was afraid I mighta."

" Forget the horse" Sam admonished. "What about you?" Get down here and we'll have a look at you."

"Can't"

"Can't what?"

"Can't move right now."

Sam stepped toward the injured man , arms outstretched to help. Joe painfully pulled his revolver and flipped it, grabbing the heavy gun by the barrel.

'Sam, you so much as touch me, I swear, I'll smack your head."

Sam immediately threw both hands into the air. " Fine. Have it your way. Whaddya plan on doin'? Just going to sit in that saddle for two weeks until it heals up?"

" Thinkin' about it." Joe grimaced.

John stepped over to Joe's left side unable to hide his concern . "What do you want us to do, Joe?"

" Just nobody touch me. " Joe replied. He kicked his boots out of the stirrups. Slowly the big man started rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm. After the fourth cycle he leaned fully forward and swung his right leg onto the horse's rump. He let out a long groan and remained in the awkward position for a bit. He worked his right leg off of the horse's butt and it swung down as Joe held onto the saddle. With his feet dangling in the air. Joe gently lowered himself until his boots were on the ground.

Turning around, Joe held his arms out to make sure no one came near. Taking short, tentative steps, stiff as a board, Joe began his journey to the bunkhouse. Not one person smirked. They all knew Joe Butler was as tough as they come.

As Joe moved away, everyone's attention turned toward Mano. He nodded politely to the strange little man sitting on the porch and addressed Buck.

" You had a busy day yesterday, eh amigo?"

" Well yeah, yeah I did, Manolito. How'd you know that?"

"Tell me of the men who tried to take your horse, Buck. What did they look like?"

Buck described the young brave who had fallen and died. He told Mano about the clothing and the distinctive knife. As soon as Buck described the odd sombrero of the second man, Mano looked to the ground and shook his head.

" They call him 'Dog'" Mano said. "He is a half breed Pima orphan who was taken in by the nuns. When he was thirteen he murdered a priest and stole his mule. He has been running ever since. Tell me of the other."

" Well, Mano he was real different. He's Indian, I'm sure of it, but he's got red hair. Long, dark, red hair."

"Well then, what I have been told is true. Do you know who this man is?"

" No, Mano , I got no idea. All I know is he wanted to steal my horse."

"It was nothing personal , Buck. He just wanted the horse. But that young man who died was his only brother and he blames you for his death. It is all very personal now."

" I never killed him Mano! He fell off the rocks. I swear."

"That does not matter. All that matters is that he is dead."

" Well, Mano. I s'pose the only real question here is who that redheaded Indian is."

Quietly, Mano spoke. "They call him Cimmaron."

Victoria gasped. Buck and John looked at her as the color fell from her face. She placed her hand over her mouth and gazed at Buck, the distress in her eyes undeniable.

Buck tilted his head and looked intently at Mano.

Mano met his gaze. " He is getting some men together and has promised that he will be coming to the Chaparral. He has vowed to kill you, Buck."


	5. Chapter 5

"Blue," John ordered, " Go get Pedro off that water tower and onto the roof with Reno. He'll be a sitting duck out there. I want a fresh man up there every four hours, not every six. You hear me?"

" Yeah, Pa." the young man replied as he turned to go.

' Let's get into the house and think this thing over." John said to Buck and Mano. "We'll get a room ready for you, Mr. Kim. You don't need to be too concerned about this Cimmaron character. We deal with men like him all the time."

" With all due respect Johncannon, I prefer to sleep in my wagon, near my steed. If I may, might I be able to join you and these men? I wish to hear of this "Cimmaron".

John paused. "Of course. Like I said, its probably no issue, but I suppose you're a part of it too, even though you didn't ask for it any more than Buck did."

The men walked into the kitchen and sat around the table there, rather than in the dining room. Victoria began flitting about doing busy work which really didn't need to be done. John approached her and tried to make eye contact. She avoided looking at him directly and John knew it best not to push the issue. Her behavior troubled him deeply. He clearly understood the name 'Cimmaron' held significant meaning to the Family Montoya.

"Well, Mano, who is this fella?" Buck implored." Better yet, _what_ is he?"

"Yeah," chimed in Blue, who had just entered from the front of the house.

" That is probably as good a place to start as any, _compadre._ " Mano began. " Cimmaron is the son of an Irish man and a Kiliwa woman."

While Buck and John seemed to understand the name, Blue didn't. "What's a Kiliwa, Mano?"

" They are a proud people, Blue, a very small tribe." he began. " They live south of the Pima. And to the west, where the Colorado empties into the Sea of Cortez. The Baja California. They, of all the tribes, are the ones who refused to be owned by the Mexicans or the church. They live in the steep cliffs away from the coast. It is brutal, unforgiving country, but it is their country. No man enters their land without their knowledge. No man stays without their permission. The Pima, the Apache, the Yuma, all speak with great reverance of the skill of the Kiliwa as hunters and as men. They are a people who merely wish to be left alone."

"How did a Irishman end up there?" Buck inquired, leaning forward.

" I do not know, Buck. What I know is that the people accepted him and allowed him to marry one of their women. They had a son, Cimmaron, and when the boy was eight years old, the family left the land of the Kiliwa. Cochise gave them permission to cross Apache land. He knew of the Kiliwa and respected them greatly. A band of Apache disobeyed Cochise's wishes and slaughtered the man. They took the woman as a slave, but somehow, the little boy escaped.

After the braves returned to camp with the woman, a holy man told them they must return and find the boy . If not, he told them, in seven years, a man would return in his place and extract revenge upon the men who killed his father. The men returned, but found no trace of the boy."

"Wait a minute, Mano. You sayin' a group of Apache braves couldn't find an eight year old boy in the desert?" Buck asked.

" Not a single track, Buck. It was as if he had disappeared, as if he had never existed. They thought a cougar had found the boy and buried his remains. Or, perhaps he had fallen into the cracks of the rocks."

"What about the woman?" John wanted to know.

" The Apache women hated her and treated her worse than a dog. She could hunt better than any of the squaws. She could stitch better. The men insisted that she make their clothes because her work was so much cleaner than that of their women. The young bucks had their way with her when they got her alone and, at some point, she had another son. When no one would claim the child as his own, the boy had to live with his mother in the cage they locked her in every night. But one night, one moonless night, Cimmaron returned. The Apache woke that next morning and every male in the camp was dead. Even the boys. Even the male infants. Their throats had been slit and the Kiliwa and her little son were gone. It was seven years to the day from when the family had been attacked."

The kitchen of the Cannon house was still. Buck and Blue stared at the table. John had risen as Victoria turned to him. She pressed her face into his chest. He held her.

Mr. Kim remained seated, his eyes closed, yet listening to every one of Mano's words.

" The Apache women ran to Cochise and demanded that he send a party of men after Cimmaron. He spit in their faces. They hadn't heeded his request seven years earlier and had disrespected the Kiliwa woman. They deserved everything they got, he told them. He ordered them out of his camp and they scattered to the wind, an entire camp destroyed by one single man.

"Mano, how's come I never heered of this Cimmaron before?" asked Buck quietly.

" He has no issue with the white man, Buck, and the Apache are afraid to even speak his name. He kills Apaches to this very day. Have you ever noticed an Apache by himself in the tall rock canyon country where the Chapparal meets Rancho Montoya?"

" No, Mano. Don't think I have but I never really thought about it much, neither."

'They know if Cimmaron finds them, they will die."

" Wait a minute, there, Mano." John interjected. "You mean to tell me that this Cimmaron comes on Chapparal land?"

" Oh, _si,_ John. He always has. You haven't seen him because he hasn't wished to be seen. But tell me something, big John. Have you ever been by yourself on the Chaparral and had this feeling that you were being watched even though there was nothing to see?"

" Well, yes, in fact I have, Mano . We all have."

' That is Cimmaron, my friend. Trust me."

"But...but," stammered Blue." Where was Cimmaron after he got away? The boy? Where did he go?"

Victoria shot a look at Mano. They held the gaze for a few seconds before Mano nodded.

"Rancho Montoya."

The three Cannon men stared at him.

" He wasn't invited. He wasn't Papa's guest. He just seemed to appear out of nowhere. A few of the hands would report seeing a boy out in the cliff country but he would never come to them when they called. They could never catch him, either. He could run in those steep canyons like a goat. We would often lose a single chicken from time to time. Some days there would be no eggs, sometimes loaves of fresh bread would vanish from the kitchen. Papa didn't mind until he started losing calves several times a year. He drew the line at that. So, one day, he sent six men out to catch Cimmaron."

'I'm guessing they didn't do so well." John said.

" _Si_. Cimmaron was still a boy by most standards, maybe fourteen, but in less than one day he had all six men separated from one another. It took about a week, but eventually each man made it back to the ranch. No horse, no saddle, no gun. Five of the men had been tortured, but none were killed. Cimmaron wanted to send a message, that he wanted to be left alone. That is the Kiliwa in him. Slowly, one at a time, five horses were returned. They would be there in the morning when they weren't there the night before. They wore their saddles and carried the men's pistols and holsters."

" Wait a minute there _parnito_ ,' Buck interjected. ' You said Don Sebastian sent _six_ riders into them hills. How come only _five_ horses came out?. How come only _five_ men was tortured?"

" He kept one horse... the finest horse I have ever owned. Gaucho."

" Gaucho," Victoria repeated in a whisper. Big John looked toward Victoria and could clearly see here eyes well with tears.

Everyone looked at the lanky Mexican, wanting an explanation he seemed reluctant to provide.

Mano pulled out a chair and sat directly across from Blue and Buck. John reseated himself and looked at Mano.

" Gaucho was special," he said, to no one in particular. "He was so fast, so fast he could scare me, but I always felt... safe... when I rode him. When Papa asked for volunteers to go get the wild boy I demanded to go along. I was sixteen by then, the crown prince of Rancho Montoya. Ha! I was little more than a fool. Papa allowed me to ride along knowing these were some of his best men. It took only four hours in that maze of rocks for me to get lost. I wandered for two days before I came across a pool of spring water at the base of some rocks. It was hot and I thought it wouldn't hurt anything if I took a quick dip. I left my gun and my clothes on a rock near the edge and jumped in. Ohhh. It felt so good."

For the first time since he had begun talking , Mano smiled and his eyes lit up.

" After a few minutes I got this feeling I was being watched. I looked around and Cimmaron was standing there, holding this knife, right where my clothes were. He looked like a boy. There was no hair on his face . No hair on his chest."

"What did you do?" asked Blue.

" I warmed the temperature of the water a little bit but there was nothing I _could_ do and we both knew it. He looked at me and asked , 'Montoya?' and I said, ' _Si_ , Manolo Montoya'. He looked at me for a long time and then pointed to a draw on my right. He just said 'Rancho' and then he smiled and...well, big John... I got the sense that he would have liked to have been my amigo, but he knew that could never be. I think we both knew that could never be. His smile was a sad one, but I have never forgotten it."

" Then what?" asked Buck.

" He told me to go below the water and hold my breath as long as I could. Oh, Buck, I held my breath until my lungs started burning and when I came up for air, he was gone. And so was Gaucho. I followed the draw he had pointed to, and I was back at Rancho Montoya in less than two days."

" I remember that day." Victoria chimed in. "Papa rushed out to see you and started crying when he saw that you had not been tortured. How he vowed to never bother that boy again." She grabbed her brother's hand, the emotions of that long ago day still vividly fresh in her mind.

"Did you ever see Gaucho again, Mano?" asked Blue.

"Si. Cimmaron would show himself to me at times and he was always on Gaucho. I could tell he took good care of that horse, Blue. But, funny thing, about five years ago there was a silver medallion tied to Mackadoo's halter. The last time I saw it was on Gaucho's saddle, the day I lost him. "

John rose and began to pace. He had a limit on how much time he was willing to discuss an issue. He preferred action. " I'm not one to interfere in another man's affairs and if this Cimmaron wants to live peaceably out on the edges of the Chaparral, I've got no issue with him. But if he thinks he's going to come to my home to settle a score then he's got an issue he won't want to have. Now, I've got a ranch to run and we'd all best get back to work." Turning to Victoria he said lowly, "We"ll be fine , Victoria. Just fine."

With that, John opened the back door to the outdoor kitchen and headed into the sunlight. Mano, Blue and Buck knew better than to wait for an invitation to join him . They headed out on his heels. Buck was halfway across the covered porch when he thought of Mr. Kim. He ran back to the kitchen to find Victoria , by herself. " Where's Mr. Kim?" he asked.

Victoria turned around and looked. "I don't know, Buck. He was here just a moment ago."

Buck returned to the porch, looked around and muttered to himself, "I really wish he'd stop doing that."


	6. Chapter 6

John Cannon pulled off his gloves and rested his arms on the top rail of the corral. Looking around the the compound he saw all his men engaged in their work. Blue had placed Kim's wagon underneath the horse shade and was busy helping their unusual guest as he built the fireworks for the much anticipated display. He liked the idea of Blue learning about explosives. Might come in handy, someday. The young man had been asking questions of the Chinaman all afternoon and it made John smile. Blue was always drawn to the new and the unusual. He never had a problem asking "Why?" , a consternation at times, a blessing at others.

All of the men had stopped to speak to the two at some point; to watch, to question,to listen. John hadn't said much about it. He was aware they knew of Mano's message and were a bit more alert than usual. This small distraction was probably a good thing, all in all. There could be no knowing whether this Cimmaron character would act on his words. Talk is cheap, John knew. Still, a man who would try to take Buck Cannon's horse from him without using a gun was a man one shouldn't take lightly. John wouldn't.

As he looked away from the wagon he noticed Victoria coming his direction. She picked up a shovel and rapped on it with a stick. Every head turned to look.

" Mr. Kim has offered to make dinner for us tonight! All of us. Now I need each one of you to spend a little extra time cleaning up today. We will be eating on the back porch."

She started to go back to the house when she turned and faced the men again. With a big smile she blurted, " And you'll need to bring your own chopsticks!" She returned to the house, a trail of confused looks behind her.

Mano put his hand on Buck's shoulder. "Ay yi yi, I wonder what that one has planned for us tonight." he chuckled. His response was met with a shrug of the shoulders rather than a comment. " _Compadre_ , you have been distracted all day. Don't tell me that Cimmaron has you scared?"

" I ain't scared of nobody. You know that. Its just that... well... I still can't figure why they didn't just shoot me when they tried stealin' Reb. Woulda been easier."

" If it was Dog's choice there would have been lead, Buck. A lot of it. But Cimmaron is an Indian of the old ways. He believes that if he is smart enough, and courageous enough, or clever enough to take your horse from you then he is truly the one who deserves to have it. He does not see that as stealing. Killing a man for his horse is something the white man and the Mexicans taught the Indians. For the Kiliwa, there is no honor in that... The first time I met big John, do you remember what happened?"

" Well, 'course I do . Ya stole his horse. At gunpoint."

. " No, I took his horse. The question that day, dear Buck, wasn't , 'Would I kill big John for his horse? ' The question was, did big John _think_ I would kill him for his horse. "

' "Ain't no difference, Mano" Buck spit, as the two men began heading for the ranch house.

Mano placed his hands on his heart and bent over. "Oh, Buck. I am deeply hurt. Have you ever known me to kill a man for his possessions?"

"No _amigo_ , I reckon not. " Buck answered, stopping to look at Mano . "Youze just sayin' you tricked big John. Is that it?"

Mano leaned back and laughed loudly. " And a fine trick it was. Do not ever tell this to John Cannon, but I was out of bullets. The rifle was empty. I used my last round on the Apache who was going to kill him." Mano laughed again and Buck couldn't help but laugh a little as well .

" Don't worry about Cimmaron, Buck. I'm sure he will consider things and change his opinions."

"Nah. He's comin'. I can feel it in my bones. I can feel it in the air... So can you."

* * *

The men honored Mrs. Cannon's request and showed up with fresh shiny faces and combed back hair. They were a bit less boisterous than usual, Mano's story still fresh in their ears. They had defended the Chaparral before and weren't about let anything happen to Buck without a fight.

No one brought chopsticks, but Victoria made sure there were plenty of spoons to eat the stir-fried beef and vegetables Kim kept pouring from his wok. She wasn't sure the men would care for rice, but by the time the sentries came down and ate , there wasn't a grain to be found. As the hands headed back to the bunkhouse, the family retired to the coolness of the living room. John asked Mr. Kim if he would care to have a game of chess. That little snippet of information , about playing chess during his voyage from China , wasn't missed by John.

" Oh, no" Buck groaned. " Best watch yourself there, Mr. Kim. Nobody round here wants to play John 'cuz he ain't got the good manners to lose every now and then."

" Come now, Buck. I lose sometimes."

" Well, I ain't seen it. Not one time. Why do you think that chessboard's been sittning untouched for a year now?"

Kim rose and spoke to John. " Perhaps another time, Johncannon. If I may, I would like to see your man, Joe. The man who was injured."

John wasn't sure of what to say. The bunkhouse was no place for strangers and Mr. Kim was about as unlikely as they come. Yet, Kim could clearly handle himself. That was patently clear.

Kim sensed the reservations of his host. "I am a healer. Perhaps I can be of assistance to your man, Joe. I have seen this kind of thing in the past. It is what I trained for."

Blue stepped forward. "I'll go out there with him, Pa. Can't hurt anything to have Mr. Kim take a look."

Blue's entrance into the bunkhouse didn't bother anyone, but the presence of the slight Chinaman behind him caused a few of them to stand.

" Please, sit." he requested Looking at Sam, Kim asked to see Joe. Sam pointed to his brother's motionless form on a bottom bunk. Kim took a leather purse from his shoulders and placed it on the table. He went over to Joe's bunk, knelt and began talking quietly to him. To everyone's surprise, Joe sat up, with Kim's assistance. Kim took Joe's legs and steered them to the side of the bed. Joe sat there on the bunk, both feet on the floor. With Kim's arms under his, Joe let out a loud groan and rose to his feet. Clearly, he was still in a great deal of pain.

Kim gestured to have the men move the table back as he helped Joe out of his undershirt. A heavy Indian blanket was laid down and Joe walked to the bottom of it. Gently, he went down on both knees and, with the help of his brother and Kim , laid down face first on the blanket. The ranch hands watched in complete silence as Kim removed several small bottles from his purse. They appeared to contain needles.

Kim knelt, his knees resting on either side of Joe's head. He whispered in the prone man's ear for a few seconds and Joe groaned out something that sounded like, "OK". Kim placed his hands on either side of Joe's big head and slowly twisted it to the right until Joe cried out. Stopping at that point, Kim slowly twisted it to the left until he got the same response. Returning Joe's head to the neutral point, the man paused. Suddenly he twisted it hard to the right.

There was a huge 'crack' which caused Sam to instinctively jump to his feet and draw his pistol.

" You just hold it right there, Kim. That's far enough. I'm not about to sit here and watch you cripple my brother!"

" Sit down,Sam." Joe grunted. " Keep goin' Mr. Kim. That helps."

Kim repeated the motion, only to the left this time. Again there was a resounding crack and a long guttural sigh which sounded a lot like relief.

* * *

An hour after Blue and Kim had left the house, Buck thought he should go out and check on Kim and the boys. When he walked into the bunkhouse not a single man turned around. They sat shoulder to shoulder in a semi-circle totally focused on something on the floor. Buck couldn't see over anyone so he wedged his head in between Blue and Sam. His jaw dropped.

On the floor laid Joe with at least a hundred needles poking out of his back . Kim was moving his fingers from needle to needle, twisting them slightly until Joe would groan. Then he moved onto a different needle and repeated the action.

Buck started to ask what was going on when Sam looked at him sternly and placed his index finger over his lips. Buck pulled his head back out and scurried to the house. He tried, as best he could, to tell Mano and John what he had witnessed, how Joe looked like a porcupine. Much to his surprise, Mano and John both knew of this practice. Buck couldn't understand how turning a man into a pin cushion could possibly be beneficial ,but if Sam and Joe weren't complaining, why should he?

Buck went back to the bunkhouse only to find Joe standing outside the front door.

" Joe?" Buck asked. " What are you doin' out here?"

Joe took a deep breath, bent over, touched his toes and then rose back up. " Just grabbin' a little fresh air, Buck," he laughed. Buck stared at him in disbelief as he made his way to the bunkhouse door. Upon entering, he saw Reno leaning against the back wall, shirt off, with fifty needles in his left shoulder. To his right sat Sam, his exposed leg hanging over a chair back with at least thirty needles sticking out from his knee. Pedro was bent over at the table, his forehead resting on his hands. In his neck and shoulders were dozens more needles. Mr. Kim was going from man to man, manipulating the needles as he had done with Joe.

Buck pushed back the brim of his hat and looked over to Blue. Slowly the old cowboy began rubbing his neck. "Ya know Blue Boy, my neck's been pretty stiff for a while now..."

Blue cut him off instantly. "Back of the line, Uncle Buck."

A quick glance showed six Chaparral hands standing in single file behind Blue. It was easy to tell by their faces that no one was going to be able to wedge in between any of them.

Buck grumbled something unintelligible as he took his place at the rear of the line.

f


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

John closed the ledger book at his desk and looked up at the clock. He knew Victoria and the others would be at the breakfast table waiting for him. He liked getting his numbers out of the way early in the day, but ranch life is unpredictable , if nothing else, so he had learned to take these opportunities as they arose. He gazed out the window before leaving his office and was pleasantly surprised to see everyone already hard at it.

" Got plenty to get done today." Big John bellowed, as he entered the kitchen. Much to his surprise the only one there was Victoria.

"Of course, my husband." she replied, smiling.

" What...where is Mano ...and Buck? Don't tell me Blue's not out of bed yet!"

"Oh, he has been awake for some time now."

"Where is he?" John wanted to know. "and where's Buck? He knows I need that windmill up and running. He's been avoiding that for two weeks now."

" Come with me , John. You must promise to be quiet."

She reached out her hand and lead John to the window which looked out onto the back kitchen. On the very table where the men had had their dinner the previous night sat Blue, Buck and Kim. Their legs were crossed and they sat erect, completely motionless.

John turned to Victoria and tried to speak, but no words came out. " _What,"_ he finally whispered, _"exactly ,are they doing?"_

Victoria grabbed John by the arm and led him back to the kitchen table."They are meditating, my husband."

" _Meditating?"_ he bellowed.

"Shh, John you do not want to disturb them."

" Oh _really?_ " John responded. " The last time I looked we were running a cattle ranch here. If they want to meditate, they'll need to do it on their own time."

John stepped toward the back door as Victoria reached out to him. "Please, John, sit and let me serve your breakfast first. They have already eaten. You can speak to them when you have finished."

"Oh, all right." the big man grumbled as he took a seat. " But a soon as I'm done, the Chaparral becomes a ranch again!"

Victoria steered John out the front door after he had finished eating. He made a beeline for the back porch. Before he reached the corner of the house, Blue came around it.

"I need you to get all that lumber stacked behind the bunkhouse before it all warps, Blue." he barked.

"Already done , Pa." Blue responded calmly.

"That would take at least two hours."

Blue nodded, agreeably. " That's about right, Pa. That's about as long as it took. I don't mean to be rude here, Pa, but I need to get movin' . Gotta get the tack room in order. It's a mess. Need to get this place cleaned up a bit."

" Uh, ..well.. uh, yeah Blue. That sounds like a plan." John stammered as Blue walked away.

As John turned, Kim walked past. "Good morning, Johncannon." he said as he passed, bowing his head.

"Good morning, Mr. Kim." John replied. "Is Buck back there?"

"Yes, Johncannon. He is fixing his boot."

John marched to the side of the house as Buck was pulling on his boot. "Buck" he started. "I've been asking you for two weeks to get the windmill working..."

'It's fixed, John. Done it this morning."

"What? That's a two man job. Take at least a hour."

" Well, John, that's about right. That's about what it took."

"Who helped you?'

"Mr Kim. He was a big help and bein' small as he is it wasn't as scary as havin' Sam or Joe up there. Kim's strong, John. He held that housing in place while I drove the bearings back in. We should be good for a while. Listen, I need to get goin'. Gotta see that this place is ready when Cimmaron and the rest of his boys show up."

"What do you mean, Buck,...'the rest of his boys' ?"

" They's out there now, John. Two of 'em. Ain't seen 'em with my eyes but me and Blue was meditatin' with Mr. Kim and he had us get real relaxed and calm and when we did, we could hear them and smell them. It will happen tonight, John. Mr. Kim says so, and I think he's right. There's no moon tonight, jist like when he killed all them 'Pache men."

"What do you propose , Buck?"

"Go about our business, John, like its just another day . Keep our ears and eyes open. We'll get the wagons in place and after dark, we'll get in position. Get 'em to fire first and we'll have 'em dead to rights when we see their muzzles flash. They'll be close. It'll be over fast."

'What about Cimmaron?" John asked.

"I'll know its him when I see him, John, just by the way he moves. An' when I see him , I'll kill him."

John could see the resolve in Buck's eyes and had no issue with Buck's plan. He nodded in silent agreement. As he turned to leave, Buck spoke.

"John?"

"Yeah, Buck." He noticed Buck sit against the table and gaze out at the chaparral in the distance.

" Me and Mr. Kim talked all night before we fixed the windmill. He said something...he said something that really rang true with me. He said it seems to him that when things is in chaos, my mind is calm, but when things is calm, my mind is in chaos . And ya know, John, he's right. Half the trouble I've ever got into was of my own doin'. Open my big mouth or stick my nose in where it don't belong, but this Cimmaron mess ain't of my makin'."

"I know, Buck , you don't have to tell me that. And Kim is right. There's nobody I'd rather have in a fight than you. I'd think Cimmaron would be too smart to make the mistake of going after you twice. If he dies tonight tonight, Buck, that's his fault, not yours."

" Well, that's the problem, John. I don't know why, but I really don't want to kill him, for some reason. Can't explain it exactly, but if something was to happen to Blue or to you I'd probably be just like him, act first and think later."

"He's giving you no choice, Buck. You can only play the cards you're dealt."

" "Yeah" Buck said as he rose. " S'pose yer right. Still don't like it. "

* * *

\- By dinner time, the ranch was laid out with the wagons situated where they could be quickly turned to provide shelter once the attack began. The Chaparral men had placed them casually as they went about their chores, trying not to tip their hands to the men gathering in the thick chaparral outside the compound. Several times during the day Buck sensed something different in the air. Each time, he looked to Mr. Kim, who was already looking back . Each time Kim smiled and nodded in agreement. They knew more men were arriving outside the ranch house.

No one had much of an appetite that evening despite the welcoming aroma of the chicken and the fresh tortillas. Victoria and Blue tried to lighten everyone's mood and Kim told several good stories, but everyone's thoughts were outside the perimeter of the homestead. They had a plan, a good plan, but the waiting element of the conflict was the hardest part.

As Victoria cleared the dishes from the table, Kim spoke to John. "Perhaps, Johncannon, I could accept your offer of a game of chess. It might help calm the air."

"Capital idea, Mr. Kim. I'll go get the board." John boomed as he strode to his office.

The suggestion changed the atmosphere in the room completely. Darkness was only beginning to fall outside and this promised to be an interesting diversion from the larger issue of the moment. Buck rubbed his hands together and grinned at Mano.

" Do you think Mr. Kim can win? " asked Mano's eyes.

" I think, maybe so!" grinned Buck's. Buck really wanted to see John get a spanking at chess some day. John was arrogant, but a certain arrogance was required of a man who thought he could carve out a life in this wild country. When it came to chess, however, John could be a bit hard to take, Buck had learned. The Chinaman saw things differently than others. The oft-defeated younger brother liked his chances.

John placed the board on a smaller table as Mano moved two chairs into place. John smiled confidently at Kim and bowed. Kim repeated the gesture and seated himself. Kim opened and John, with his chin propped by his fingers, made his first move. Kim responded immediately.

Much to the suppressed delight of his brother, it wasn't long before a number of John's men were off the board. John would deliberate for quite some time before each move. Mr. Kim would respond immediately, his calm expression never changing. At length, it appeared that all was lost for big John until a move he hadn't considered presented itself. He casually looked at Buck and winked before making his move. "Check" he proudly announced, leaning back in his chair.

Almost immediately, Kim made a move. "Checkmate" he said.

John sat up immediately and stared at the board as Mano reached into his vest pocket and gave the grinning Buck a ten dollar gold piece. John stared at the board until he recognized his mistake. " Oh , no," he groaned. " Did not see that at all. Good match, Mr. Kim." John stood and bowed to his guest before sitting back down. " If I didn't know better," John drawled, ' I would have said you knew my every move before I made it."

"I did." answered Kim. "I have observed you, Johncannon and felt you would use your pieces as you use your people here at the Chaparral, and, you did. I could place a name on each chessman and know how he would be played. I also noticed that at all times the queen was protected . I knew you would lose the match before you let the queen be taken."

"He might be on to something there, big John!" Mano laughed.

As John began placing the pieces back on the board, Kim rose, and raised his arms slightly. Everyone got quiet and focused their eyes on the little man.

"It is time." he calmly stated. He walked to John Cannon's side and stopped.

Suddenly, he lunged at John , knocking the big man and his chair to the floor. The window behind Buck exploded as a bullet slammed into the marble chessboard, sending shards of the chessmen into the air. The projectile violently smacked into the adobe wall which John Cannon had been sitting in front of seconds before.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

" Close the shutters! " John yelled, as he regained his feet. The words were unneeded as Blue and Mano had already jumped to the task. A hail of gunfire errupted outside . The bunkhouse men were ready and waiting for this attack and responded with vigor.

"Victoria," John called, as he rushed to her side. Grabbing her waist, he quickly led her up the stairs. " Go to our room and pull the curtains and stay there. Leave the door open. I'll have Vaquero up here in the hall."

John ran back down the stairs as Buck tossed him a rifle from the gunrack. The men were about to bolt out the front door when Kim stopped them. "You must leave through the back." he insisted. " They want you to come out this door so they can see you with the lights from the porch. You will all be shot."

" He's right, big John." said Mano.

"All right , we'll leave out the rear entrance." John agreed. "Let's not all go out at once. In pairs. There could be someone waiting back there and it's so dark we wouldn't see them until it's too late. Let's hope Ira and Pedro have us covered from the roof. Let's go."

John and Blue went first. Keeping their heads down, they scurried out to back kitchen before disappearing into the inky darkness. Mano went next as Kim grabbed Buck's shoulder.

"Ya gotta let go of me, " Buck hissed tensely. " You can stay in here. You'll be fine. I gotta go."

"I shall go with you, Buckannon, but you must follow me."

The small man ran softly into the darkness , Buck right on his heels. They veered out to the corral in spite of Buck's whispered insistence that they go to the east side of the house where all the men and all the gunfire were. When the two men reached the corral , Kim had Buck rest behind a bale of hay. It was so dark that neither man could see out more than twenty feet .

"I need to get over to the east side, Mr Kim", Buck whispered. " That's where we been hearing Cimmaron's men all day."

"Yes", agreed Kim. "But have you heard Cimmaron over there? Have you felt Cimmaron's presence over there?."

Buck paused and said nothing, letting his pulse slow down.

"Cimmaron does not wish to kill Johncannon's men." whispered Kim. "He wishes to kill only you. He knows if everyone has their backs to him he can come in the darkness and find you. He can cut your throat from behind and then disappear into the nght. Those men out there are merely pawns, are they not? They do not matter to your opponent."

"Yeah. but he's gunna be awful hard to find in this darkness ."

"Do not concern yourself with that, Buckannon. I will make the night bright. You must be ready."

Buck turned to ask Mr. Kim what he meant, but there was no one there.

Across the compound, Joe and Sam hunkered down behind a wagon, on its side. They had been prepared for the attack and when the first shots rang out, they ran through the darkness to this spot. The gunfire was intermittent after the first volleys and now the two sides were playing a deadly game of cat and mouse, each side looking for the slightest mistake from the other.

" Can you shoot well?" a voice asked, from between the two brothers. Sam and Joe both jumped as they looked at Mr. Kim. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

"Yeah," said Sam. Me'n Joe are about the best shots on the ranch."

"You must shoot out the lights on the porch." Kim softly said.

Sam paused. "Don't think big John would like that much."

"No, Sam," whispered Joe. "Mr Kim's right. With that light behind us we'll be silhouetted whenever we move. Those men are close. I can hear'em out there. They'll wait until they see someone move and then they'll pick us off one at a time."

With one voice, the rifles of the brothers Butler spoke. Instantly, the last remnant of light was gone. Pitch blackness enveloped the Chaparral.

'When it is light" whispered Kim, "you must be prepared to act."

Sam turned his head to respond, but there was no one there.

Blue jumped slightly as he felt a hand on his back. " Do not stare so hard into the darkness, Blue." spoke Kim's calm voice. "Close your eyes and see with your ears, as we practiced this morning. Do not forget to see to the sounds behind you as well as those in front of you. When the light comes, you will know which path to follow."  
Blue turned to ask Kim what he meant, but there was no one there.

" Hey, Pa," Buck whispered to his father , several yards away in the darkness. " Did you hear that?"

"Hear what, boy?"

"Nothin' Pa. Just be ready."

" I am , son. I am."

Atop the roof, Pedro and Ira tried to make out any movement in the darkness beyond the perimeter. It was an exercise in futility. They listened intently, not wanting to fire randomly at sounds in the dark. To do so would reveal their own location and immediately draw fire. They laid on opposite sides of the corner of the house, Ira focused toward the front gate while Pedro overlooked the men on the east side. A voice spoke to them.

' Be ready." spoke Kim's voice. "You must shoot when it is light."

The voice startled them both but they held their posts.

'Si," whispered Pedro. "But the light is many hours away, Senor Kim."

They heard Kim laugh lightly as he melted into the darkness.

A lull in the gunfire had settled in. Cimmaron's men were patient. They knew they had all night and intended to use the time and the darkness to their advantage. Slowly, they crawled ever closer to the men of the Chaparral. It would simply be a matter of time before they located their targets and eliminated them, one at a time.

Suddenly, there was a loud 'ka-whump' from the roof of the big house. All eyes turned to see a bright red spark shoot up into the black sky. Up it went, higher and higher and higher. When it reached its apex, it exploded with a resounding blast. Instantly, the grounds of the Chaparral were illuminated with the intensity of the sun.

Cimmaron's men were naked, completely exposed as their cloak of darkness had been lifted. The guns of the Chaparral spoke as the would-be attackers fled in panic.

Almost instantly there was another 'ka-whump' from the rooftop. As the light from the first mortar faded , the second exploded, once again drenching the grounds with a brilliant white light. It was a slaughter. As the intruders turned to run they were gunned down by the rifles of the Chapparal men, many of the attackers being struck by the bullets of several different guns. The horse thief, Dog, was hit by the rifles of four different men.

Blue had heeded Mr. Kim's words. He had been facing the house when the first mortar exploded and saw a man no older than himself staring up at the light. He looked back as the light began to fade, and his eyes locked onto Blue's. The barrel of Blue's revolver was the last thing he would ever see.

By the time the third mortar had shed its energy, the battle was over. No sound came from the distant chaparral, not even a groan.

"Your Dog just got shot, Cimmaron !" Mano yelled into the darkness.

Ther was no response.

The men all carefully rose from their positions and called out to each other. Moving slowly in the inky darkness they gathered about John Cannon.  
"Well done, men." he said. ' I wish they hadn't shot out my porch lights. Guess I'll have to pick some more up when we get to town."

Sam and Joe looked at each other and said nothing.

" Let's get some lanterns going and make sure everybody is all right. We'll wait for daylight to bury Cimmaron and his men. By the way," he asked, "Where's Buck?"

* * *

Buck's black clothes were a perfect match for the night. He jumped slightly as Kim's first rocket exploded in the sky, but quickly his eyes scanned the landscape in front of him. There was nothing to see, but the volume of the shooting from behind him gave him pause. Perhaps Kim had been wrong. As the light began to fade, Buck looked back to where his gaze had begun. There, staring directly at him, was the red headed man who tried to take his horse. Cimmaron. The hair on Buck's neck raised.

He pointed his pistol in the dimming light but was unable to squeeze off an accurate shot. The Indian rolled behind a bush and began to run. Immediately, Buck was on his feet, racing toward the man. He had only gone thirty feet when something grabbed his leg and jerked him to the ground. The jolt caused him to lose control of his pistol and it landed several feet away. Buck couldn't reach it, and, as the second shell erupted, he understood why. He had stepped into a snare, the loop tightly locked around his ankle. He reached to loosen the shackle but it was no use. It was a perfectly set trap and Buck had stepped right into it, like a rabbit. Buck reached for his knife, but as he did so, he looked up to see Cimmaron standing directly above him, knife drawn.. The Indian reached over and took Buck's knife and threw it into the dirt several feet away. Buck knew he was a dead man. As the light from the second mortar began to fade, Buck gave the Kiliwa a steely-eyed gaze. The Indian looked back until the darkness returned.

Buck braced for the attack he knew was coming. Nothing happened.

When the third explosive erupted, Buck saw Cimmaron still standing there, knife drawn.

'Ya gunna have fun with this, ain't ya, Cimmaron.?" he hissed.

" I just want you to know the face of the man whose brother yee killed. The man who is going to kill yee."

Cimmaron took three or four steps back, as though to give Buck a better look.

The light of the third explosive faded quickly. In the distance he could hear familiar voices yelling joyously, clearly unaware that he was about to die. Buck looked at the noose on his leg and then back at Cimmaron, barely able to see him in the closing darkness. Something behind the Indian moved as Buck saw a vague form launch toward the man. There was a thump and then something struck his chest. Buck reached for it. It was Cimmaron's knife.

Instantly, Buck sliced the snare which held his leg. As he stood, Cimmaron slammed into him. The two men rolled , fighting for control of the knife. Buck knew how to fight and he knew how to fight dirty. Clearly, Cimmaron had learned the same lessons. They bit each other and shoved each other's heads into the sand. Once Cimmaron broke Buck's grasp, he rose to his feet in an instant. Buck jumped up and faced him. When the Indian didn't run, Buck smiled at him. He held out the knife so Cimmaron could see it, then placed the knife in his own sheath.

Cimmaron attacked immediately, but Buck kicked him in the chest . He rose again and charged. This time, Buck flipped him into the air. Once Cimmaron hit the ground, Buck was on top of him in a flash. Buck reached for the knife, and, when he held it high , the Indian went limp.

Buck resisted the urge to plunge the knife into the Indian's ribs. He put his palm against the man's chest to make sure he was still alive. He clearly was. Placing the blade's sharp edge against the man's neck, Buck slowly leaned over until his nose was inches from Cimmaron's. He could see the eyes of the Indian clearly. His sweat dropped onto the man's face.

" I . didn't. kill. your. brother." Buck intently hissed, teeth clenched. " He fell. It was a accident. He was tryin' to steal my horse."

The Indian remained silent.

Buck lifted the man to his feet. Cimmaron offered no resistance " So , you just goin' to stand there and let me kill ya."

The Kiliwa stared at Buck. At length, he spoke.

"Yee buried me brother... Why?"

Buck paused. In the distance he could hear big John barking out orders.

' Wasn't me. Mostly my friend..but, yeah...I was glad he done it. Your brother had courage."

" Yee didn't take hees knife. Why?"

" It weren't mine. I ...I ..guess I felt he deserved to take it with him."

Cimmaron paused upon hearing Buck's words. 'Yee have taken me knife." he began."It is yours. If yee are to kill me with it now, I shall not fight . Yee have won."

Buck stood still, feeling the weight of the knife in his hand. Like the other Kiliwa knife, it balanced perfectly. The handle was well worn and conformed to his grip as though it was a part of him. Buck stepped up to Cimmaron. The two men stood motionless, close enough to hear the other one breathe. The moment had an eerily familiar quality to it.

Buck paused , raised the knife up, and handed it to the Kiliwa. He stepped back.

Even at two or three paces, all the men could see of each other were the outlines of their bodies. Buck saw Cimmaron reach out to him. There was no menace in his movement. He handed the knife back to Buck, who took it, looked down at it, and ran his fingers over the smooth blade.

When he looked up, Cimmaron was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Ch 9

" Buck!"

"Uncle Buck!"

" _Compadre_ , where are you?"

" Stop yer hollerin'" a familiar voice rang out from the darkness back of the corral. "I'm a comin. "

The feeble light of the two lanterns which had been taken from the bunkhouse did not carry far in the dark night. Even when Victoria and Vaquero carried out several more from the house, there was, at best, a thirty foot circle of light in the sea of darkness.

Buck was making his way to the light when he paused. " You're behind me, aren't you, Mr. Kim?"

A mischievious little laugh answered back. "Your vision is getting much better, Buckannon." The little man stood alongside the burly cowboy.

" You did not kill him, Buckannon," It was as much statement as question.

" Nah, I didn't, Mr. Kim. Thought about it but..."

"But?"

" I just didn't . It was my choice, .just like it was his choice not to shoot at me to steal my horse. I chose not to kill him and I'm at peace with it. I truly am."

"No doubt, no questions?"

" No ...well, there's one question. I'd sure like to know what caused Cimmaron's knife to fly out of his hands and land on my chest."

There was a pause as the two men walked closer to the ring of light.

" Perhaps it is better to accept than to analyze, Buckannon."  
."Don't rightly know what that means, Mr. Kim, but I ain't complainin' 'bout what happened ."

"Buck !" shouted several voices as the two men made their way into the light.

Mano ran to Buck and Kim, laughing loudly, "We shot your Dog, Buck."

Behind Mano, big John Cannon's voice boomed out to the night, " Mr. Kim, I want to shake your hand!"

Before he could get the chance, Joe and Sam hoisted Kim on their shoulders and began belting out " For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow..."

All the other hands and the Cannons joined in, singing as loudly and boisterously as they could. Victoria put her hands over her mouth and began laughing out loud. The smile on Kim's face was equal parts embarassment and amusement.

"Mr. Kim ," shouted Blue, " That was the most beautiful fireworks show I ever saw. Cimmaron's men never had a chance, and, thank you for talking to me first. I think you saved my life."

Voices rang out, conversations and comments overlapping each other with frequency. The adrenaline surge from the previous hour had everyone buzzing.

Buck was reluctant to say much to John and Mano about Cimmaron. He let them know that the Kiliwa would never be an issue to the Chaparral . When Mano and John asked Mr. Kim what he thought, they noticed that he was nowhere to be seen. As they walked the lantern into the darkness they were jolted by a loud 'ka-whump' from the roof of the hacienda. All conversation stopped as every eye followed the arc of the cherry red fuse into the depth of the night.

With a resounding "boom" , orange fingers shot out, filling the sky as each tail raced the others to the ground.

Ka-thump!

Ka-thump!

Ka-thump!

A blue and red peony lit up the night, with a yellow chrysanthemum right on its heels. One after another, the outbursts colored the black desert night.

Down below men cheered, men who had just fought for their very lives found themselves laughing like twelve year old boys, the innocence and awe of their childhoods revisited, if ever so briefly.

There came a pause, a lengthy pause. Everyone thought it was over, but one last mortar shot to the sky. Everyone watched with great expectation, but instead of a colorful umbrella, there was a retort, an explosion so loud and intense that it shook the ground and startled everyone gathered. When they regained their senses, all they could hear was the laughter from Ira, Pedro and Kim in the darkness above them.

* * *

Mano saw Buck sitting by himself on the side porch and brought him a cup of hot coffee.

" _Que pasa, amigo_."

"Ah, jist fixin' to go out there and find my gun and my knife."

Mano eyed the knife already in Buck's sheath. He let out a slow whistle as he withdrew it. His experienced eye regarded the unique weapon. " There are only two ways men like us can have a knife like this, and no one has found a dead redheaded Indian , yet."  
" They won't."

Buck sipped his coffee, looking out to the morning desert. "That black stone in the butt, Mano, you reckanize it?"

Mano looked at it casually, rubbing his thumb over its smooth surface. " _Si._ It is called 'obsidian' but there is another name for it. Some call it 'Indian teardrop' because of its shape."

"Valuable?"

"To Cimmaron, si."

"Well", Buck grunted, as he stood. "Best go get my gun. Mr. Kim don't wanna wait to head out. John's sending Blue and Sam into town and offered to have them ride along, but I don't think John realizes how slow that mu... that steed of Kim's is."

Mano laughed as Buck handed him the empty cup. "I'll see ya out front."

* * *

Mr Kim had his steed and wagon pointed toward the front gate as the family came out to see him off. Kim waved to Ira on the roof of the big house, who returned the gesture with a bow and a big smile.

"Adios, Pedro" Kim shouted to his friend on the water tower. Unwilling to try another bow , Pedro just smiled, _" Via con Dios, amigo."_

The brothers Butler joined Mano and the Cannons to bid farewell to their unique guest. Rather than bow, Mr Kim surprised each man by shaking his hand and giving him a brief hug, even big John. The men were all somewhat uncomfortable with the hug, but with Mr. Kim they had come to expect the unexpected. When Kim reached Victoria, he merely shook her hand.

"Oh, no, Mr. Kim," she laughed, "You do not leave until I get a hug, too."

The little man smiled and leaned into her hug before stepping onto his small wagon .With a curt whistle, Kim's steed began to lead the mysterious man away from the Chaparral,

As Victoria turned to the house, an object fell from the sleeve of her blouse. Reaching down , she picked up a small heavy object; a chesspiece from John's destroyed set. The queen.

When Mano leaned over to look at it, she noted a bulge in the pocket of his vest. She pointed at it with a questioning look. Mano gave her a blank response and reached into the pocket. He withdrew yet another chess piece. A rook. Checking his vest pocket, Buck also withdrew a rook. The brothers Butler had pieces in their vest pockets as well. Knights. Blue withdrew a bishop. All eyes turned to big John as each person held up their piece.

With a confident smile, John felt his vest pocket. Rather than remove his piece, he felt the shape of the item in his pocket with his fingertips. His smile dropped as he withdrew his piece. A pawn. He stared at it, face blank, speechless.

Buck and Blue and Mano let out loud laughs, bending over and slapping John on the back. Sam and Joe knew it best to turn away before they laughed. As everyone turned to return to their duties, John remained still, looking out at the little wagon as it mosied along. He thought of something Kim said when they had played their chess game. "The great king, " he had said, 'is the one who can still see the world through the eyes of the pawn."

John looked around, and when he saw no one looking at him, gave a subtle bow toward the retreating wagon before turning back to the house.

" Let's get some picks and shovels," he bellowed. "We've got graves to dig and ranch to run."

* * *

Authors note:

 _I wish to thank all of you who have taken the time to read "The Illumination", my first attempt at a fanfic. A special shoutout to June, Junebug, wotwasithinkin and kagmb I cannot begin to tell you how much your positive comments lifted me. All comments are welcomed._

 _It has crossed my mind that High Chaparral ,the fanfic, is similar to High Chaparral, the place. It is out of the way, visited by a few hardy souls with a common understanding of what this place is all about. If it's OK with everybody, I think I'll look for an empty bunk to toss my bedroll for a spell. There's still a great deal of work here left to do!_


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